Master of Swords 2: A LitRPG Progression Fantasy, page 1
Master Of Swords 2
Hunter Dane
Marcus Sloss
Copyright © 2024 by Royal Guard Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Check This Out!
Chapter One
Practice Makes Perfect
Baron Diabolos drew his sword with a loud, clacking scrape. He slashed it twice, cutting the air before him. Aside from looking badass, it made the polished wooden blade glisten under the bright noonday sun.
It would’ve made for a neat bit of déjà vu if I’d still been on Earth, part of the Canterbury Faire company, and on stage. As it happened, this world’s Goddess of Light pulled me from there as easily as you or I might pluck a Ken doll from a Mattel dream house. Then she’d dropped me here in Occida to rescue and woo Swordmaidens lost during this world’s last great war.
So the ‘Baron’ who stood on the opposite side of Duke Grimaldi’s garden was not played by Todd, the all-around douche of a character actor. Instead, that was the nickname we gave to the first of our sparring dummies. Diabolos was a magically animated pile of wooden scraps with a literal bucket for a head.
But he could walk, after a fashion, and the wooden sword he swung could still hurt. In fact I still had a fading bruise on my upper arm from an early training session. But that was just small change when it came to combat training.
Duke Grimaldi had granted my request to cordon off his royal gardens for a training area. This was a sprawling complex of green lawns, trimmed hedges, and trees of various sizes. It also had seemingly random placements of various gazebos, pergolas, and fluted marble pillars.
I stood at the forefront, elven longsword in hand. The three women in my life, dressed in cloth and leather outfits of burgundy, green, and black, had joined me for the exercise. For now, they remained safely behind me.
Standing well off to the sides were Perewit and Bertrum, a pair of wizards sent to us on loan from the Council of the Magi. Perewit looked like a beanpole with a snow white beard. His companion Bertrum reminded me of a slouchy 1940’s reporter with his faded clothing and porkpie-style hat.
But I had to hand it to them – despite their slightly comical look, the two had proven to be extremely useful.
First, they’d shown me the limits of magic in Occida. On the whole, spells and cantrips worked as performance enhancers. Elke’s use of shruppen, magic that assisted in Wilderness Survival was one example, while Fleur’s bard magic was another.
Second, they’d helped us train both more effectively. Their animated sparring dummies had allowed us to practice and also work out strategies to maximize our strengths while covering for weaknesses. That, and my regular workouts of lifting weights, doing push-ups, and holding rocks out at arms’ length were having an effect.
I held a standard elven longsword in one hand. While I preferred a lighter sword, this was the weapon I wanted to improve my skill on the most. My encounter with a barrow wight had convinced me that some creatures were in a different weight class altogether.
A duelist like me was used to rapiers and other weapons for speed-based attacks. That made the elvish weapon ridiculously slow and heavy in my hands. So I’d been focusing on improving my upper-body and core strength in order to handle it better.
Elke insisted that using two hands made the wielder clumsy, and she was right. We compromised in having her teach me how to use a langes schwert in what the Saksa called the ‘half-and-a-half’ technique. Put simply, I’d use the sword one-handed for as long as I could, switching only to two hands when my strength began to give out.
At the start, I could stay in a fight while one-handed for maybe thirty seconds. Now, I was up to triple that and improving every day. And I hadn’t neglected working with the spada da lato or the francisca throwing axe either.
I’d used up all but fifty Achievement points in concentrated training. The rest of the time, I’d earned my gains the hard way by practice, practice, and yet more practice. I pulled up a chunk of my folio, aka the ‘stat sheet’ and grinned as I looked over the payoff for all the work.
Dante Castillo, aka ‘Sir Nightmare’
Level: 57 / 45 / 49
Total Achievement Points Pooled: 50
Sure, I was still ranked as an Intermediate-Level Swordsman and Ax Thrower. But now I was within striking distance of becoming Advanced in all areas. Once you added in the boosts to my abilities from my three ladies, I was more than a match for any but a veteran fighter.
But I’d foregone the boosts right now. I’d asked Fleur to ‘turn off’ her magical skill called Diffusion of Existing Spells. I was at my base, bare minimum. Just what I needed in order to level up from practice.
Perewit cleared his throat. “Are you ready, Sir Castillo?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Let’s do this.”
The wizard gestured in mid-air as I flexed my arms. They ached, as they nearly always did these days. The price of the muscle tissue being broken down and built up stronger during the recovery.
The new leather armor bestowed upon me by Duke Grimaldi made a creak as I did so. I was grateful to upgrade my protection, though I still needed more time to break it in and wear soft. As it was, every time I moved I got a puff of grass or oak scents up my nose.
Diabolos shambled forward with a chorus of clanks and scrapes. Though he appeared clumsy, the magically animated scrap heap could move pretty fast. Fast enough to give an Intermediate-Level Swordsman a challenge.
“Halla guide your hands!” Elke called. “Slay this foe and lay his wooden innards on the turf, Master of Swords!”
“Brava, brava!” Angela cheered. “Kick his mechanical butt!”
“Fais le maintenant!” Fleur added, with a toss of her orange mane. “Do it with style, Sir Nightmare!”
With those words of encouragement, I charged towards Diabolos. My sword glinted in the sunlight as I held at the ready. My boots made a whisper of sound as I crossed the expanse of grass.
One thing I’d learned about wielding longswords was that sitting back and playing defense didn’t work. On top of that, I could swing this heavy sword for little more than a minute before getting tired.
I wasn’t about to waste that time sitting and waiting for Diabolos to come to me.
Perewit or Bertrum must’ve made some upgrades. The sparring dummy didn’t sit passively as I closed the distance. Instead, it slowed to a halt and swung its wide wooden sword at me in a high, horizontal swipe.
A hit like this from a steel blade would’ve cut me in two. This wooden one could still break a rib. But I wasn’t about to just walk into Diabolos’ sword.
Instead, I ducked under the sparring dummy’s attack. Then I slashed at his nearest leg. A chunk of wood the size of my palm flew off and bounced across the grass. But the leg didn’t collapse.
A human fighter losing a similarly sized chunk of meat would’ve been seriously hurt. But that was part of the challenge here. The more durable sparring unit mimicked an especially tough foe, perhaps one in armor.
Diabolos shrugged off my strike and swiveled to face me once more. Once more he went on the attack, bringing down an overhead strike that made me dance back a step. The wooden sword ruffled my hair as it passed by my forehead.
I heard all three women gasp. I’d cut it close enough that they’d feared for my safety. But now that the sparring contraption had committed to the heavy blow, I had an opening to take advantage of.
Before he could recover, I steadied my blade. Then I thrust forward with all my might. My longsword punched through the circular wooden cask that made up the Baron’s torso. A shudder ran through the magically animated device as I pulled my sword back out.
Diabolos quite literally fell to pieces at my feet. With a rattling series of bangs, crashes, and twangs, the pieces that made up the sparring dummy collapsed into a heap of junk. I stepped back as a couple bits rolled on by a
Thinking of Fleur’s words, I turned and took a bow. However, what really grabbed my attention was a little blink of red at the edge of my vision. That meant a new message or update on my folio.
By now, I’d learned how to just pull up the updated portion of my sheet. A blink, and I saw two changes highlighted.
Dante Castillo, aka ‘Sir Nightmare’
Level: 57 / 46 / 49
+10 Achievement Points Earned for disabling a foe in under three moves.
Total Achievement Points Pooled: 60
So I’d earned ten more Achievement Points. And gone up another level in Swordsmanship to 46. That put a grin on my face as I called out to Angela, Elke, and Fleur.
“All right!” I said. “It’s your turn now, ladies!”
All three had done individual duels just the other day. For today, they’d be practicing together. Bertrum joined Perewit in their quiet, intense mid-air gestures.
A rumble came from across the green. Diabolos re-assembled himself, turning once again from a shamble of junk into the approximation of a human figure. Two more menacing looking sparring dummies rose from the grass nearby, each with a wooden sword in their simulated hands.
After a little discussion, we’d named these two Flotsam and Jetsam. They were near-twins to Diabolos in that they were clumsy when it came to walking. But just fast enough to be dangerous when it came to swordplay.
I squinted at each of my team in turn. They’d been practicing almost as hard as me, and they’d each jumped three or more levels in their core skill.
Contessa Mariangela di Ravenna
Level 56
Elke Salzglitter, Seventh Daughter of Elf-King Adelaide
Level 79 / 35
Fleur Saint-Cyr, Melodium of Orléans
Level 53
Elke looked over to Angela. “I’m open to your suggestions, Contessa.”
Now that they’d been together for a while, this was a pretty typical exchange between them. The elven princess was strong and experienced enough to pick and choose her own strategy. But in general, she still tended to defer to Angela when it came to decisions. For her part, the Contessa slipped into the leadership role naturally, so it worked for them.
Then there was Fleur. She usually backed whatever play Angela called. But at times, she would also do her own thing whenever she felt like it. That independent streak probably came from her feline background.
“Let’s use that attack pattern we worked out,” Angela said. “You’ve got the lead, Elke. Fleur, can you play us something rousing to fight to?”
“Mais bien sûr!” the Melodium replied, and she brought her francisca-flute to her lips. Immediately, a low and tense set of notes rippled through the air, the prelude to an upcoming fight. “That should set the stage!”
Flotsam and Jetsam shambled their way towards the three women, with Diabolos doing his best to keep up at a limping walk.
Elke moved to take point, her platinum white hair glittering in the sun as much as the longsword she held in one hand. Angela stood behind and slightly to one side of the tall elven warrior. The Contessa’s amber eyes glittered with anticipation.
Fleur remained at the rear, amping up the music to a driving melody suitable for rampant slaying.
Chapter Two
Training Gone Wrong
Rather than advancing straight-on, Elke took several running steps to the left. Angela and Fleur shifted position along with her. It took me a moment to figure out what she was doing, but it was clear soon enough.
Flotsam had approached them on their left side. What’s more, the magically animated junk heap was moving ever-so-slightly faster than its sibling, Jetsam. By angling to one side, Elke gained a small fraction of time where she could take on her first sparring partner one-on-one.
Elke came to a stop close to one of the garden’s small ornamental stations. A small tree shaded a wooden bench and a set of flowering vines entwined about a marble pillar. She readied her sword, holding it up before her in a defensive posture.
Perewit and Bertrum had definitely upped the ‘aggression’ setting on the three sparring dummies. Flotsam charged on it, performing a high cross-swipe as Diabolos had done with me. Elke barely had to pivot in order to block the blow with her upraised longsword.
The steel and wooden weapons came together in a wince-inducing clash. Just as the two swords slammed into each other, Angela stepped out from behind Elke’s shadow. Whip-fast, she lunged forward and made a slashing uppercut with her spada da lato.
With a snick! of Angela’s razor-sharp sword, Flotsam’s left arm came off at the shoulder. The sparring dummy staggered back as its limb, a collection of wooden boards, ropes, and a pulley, fell to the ground with a clatter. Fleur’s music punctuated the event with a laughing riff of woodwinds.
“Second customer of the day!” the Contessa announced, as Jetsam lumbered up to join the fight.
Like Flotsam, the wooden robot surged forward aggressively. This time, Angela was the one who blocked an incoming swing of a wooden sword with hers. The blow was a heavy one, and I noticed how it made her grimace as the shock ran down her arm.
This time, Elke stepped in from Angela’s side. She thrust her heavy blade into the metal-hooped barrel that made up Jetsam’s chest. Then she turned the blade with a wrenching sound. The sparring dummy fell back several steps, its arms flailing weakly.
“Great job!” I shouted, and Fleur chimed in with a high-pitched whistle from her instrument. “You two have that move down perfectly!”
I wasn’t just puffing up Angela and Elke for the sake of morale. The two really had worked out a neat system to take on foes, even if they were significantly more powerful, or had a greater reach. One would block while the other made a disabling strike or killing blow.
Yet even as we cheered, something happened to the three sparring machines. The one-armed Flotsam and the damaged Jetsam stood stock still for a moment. Their bucket heads tilted to one side as if listening to a signal that came in from somewhere else.
Diabolos paused, bucket-head tilted like the other two. Then he lurched into motion, coming around on one side. He picked up more speed than I’d ever seen him attain before.
Perewit and Bertrum traded startled glances with each other. They dropped their hands and then made a slicing motion, as if cutting a connection. But all three sparring dummies ignored their countermeasure.
“Entara’s ample buttocks!” the taller, bearded wizard spat. “What’s going on, are you doing this?”
“Like hell I am!” Bertrum yelped. “You saw me try to cut the connection!”
“Pull the plug on those sparring dummies!” I ordered, before realizing that the pre-electricity citizens of Occida probably wouldn’t have any idea what I was talking about. “I mean, stop them!”
Bertrum threw a panicked look at me. “We can’t!”
I cursed, then shouted a warning as Diabolos came barreling towards Fleur.
Angela and Elke were too far away to protect her. The sparring machine moved on its own accord, almost toppling over in its eagerness to strike a blow. Diabolos brought its heavy wooden sword up to deliver a downward, skull-cracking chop.
The Valdeloir’s catlike reflexes saved her. She danced out of the way of Diabolos’ strike. The wooden sword made a thud as it slammed into the turf. Fleur then turned and half-climbed, half leapt into the branches of the nearby tree.
“Angela, Elke, watch out!” I cried, even as I charged forward, longsword in hand. “The sparring dummies are out of control!”
Elke turned as Flotsam swung the sword in his remaining hand at her. She took a glancing blow across the midsection of her hard leather armor. The ranger turned with the strike, landing in the garden bench with an uff!
Angela spotted Jetsam’s movement towards her. She got her blade up just in time to block a vicious overhead swing. The force from the blow made her legs wobble.
For the first time that I’d seen, Fleur stopped using her enchanted francisca as an instrument. She changed her grip on the weapon as she dodged Diabolos’ clumsy overhead thrust. Then she danced over to a thicker branch, her deep green eyes watching for the moment to strike.
She let out a hiss that exposed her pearly white canines. Then she leapt down from her perch, avoiding her opponent’s sword and leading with her axe. I heard a thunk as she slammed the francisca’s sharp edge into Diabolos’ head.
